Anomie or something like that
by Melpomene melancholica
Summary: Flynn and the King converse about the girl they both want to protect


Disclaimer: Tangled is the property of Disnye, etc. Borrowing for entertainment and safe form of escapism. No monetary gains whatsoever.

**Anomie or something like that**

Flynn Rider once made his living stealing the property of others. As invigorating merry chases were, the best way to go about such thieving was to not get detected. As such, Flynn Rider had developed and honed a keen eye for details and a profound insight on human behavior that most people did not expect from him.

It was that part of him that instantly recognized the unrest in the ordered rituals of the palace workers, the urgency in the tiniest movements of even the maids. They would not be able to tell him what was wrong, of course, but their anxiety was something translated from their masters. He would have to go to someone who was privy to such information.

Old habits die hard, but even when he caught himself slinking through the drafty halls of the palace, he didn't stop. Finding something more precious than a hill of money or an island paradise had a half-hidden caveat. One had more to fear, had something to risk, just by simply breathing and loving.

He had to protect his.

The queen would be too distraught to give him anything prehensile at this juncture. He would have to go to the war room-a funny term for a place in a city-state that has not gone to war in at least a century. He had a feeling that whatever was happening, it was being treated at the scale of an invasion for these peaceful people that valued justice.

"Mr. Fitzherbert." The quiet voice of the king was weary. "I've sent for you a while ago."

He nodded tersely. "Your messenger must have lost his way in this rabbit warren of yours."

At any other time, the king might have apologized for how his incumbent son-in-law was still not being treated with respect in some quarters. Or maybe he wouldn't after all. The king was an honorable man, who tempered his laws with mercy, but he was also kind. He knew that Eugene would not respond well to such an untruth. Eugene could only expect to receive what he had dealt. Since Flynn had worked so hard at his reputation, he had no choice but to deal with how well the masses lapped up his tales of notoriety.

"Please, don't hold back on me," Eugene said after a brief silence.

"We can't find her," the king said, deeply sorrowful. "My men have scoured the entire city and her outskirts. The story has filtered down into the city and there are those who have decided to form parties to look for her beyond our borders. The aftermath of such mobs taking matters into their hands is rarely good, Mr. Fitzherbert."

"I looked in the usual places," the former thief said. "I've looked in her—" He drew a sharp breath at almost misspeaking. "—in that tower she was imprisoned in, as you suggested."

There was a slight hint of accusation there.

"Don't misunderstand me, Eugene," the king said. "I didn't mean to suggest there was anything in that gaol she would find worth going back for, but a person cannot be locked up in such tiny confines and be perfectly fine when returned to the greater world."

"I know," the younger man snarled. "I know. But that place stood for lies, for twisted truths she's been unraveling for more than three years now. It stands for more than just death. I can't imagine why—"

"It also stands for a wall." The king looked at him unflinchingly, wise with all his years and infinitely sad. "A safe haven that represented all that was before this. A buffer against the onslaught of all the contradicting half-facts that form our world. We had years to get used to this, Eugene, no matter how different our vantage points are, but she is set in it with only the barest of defenses. "

"Newly," Eugene murmured. She had read a poem the first few days of their arrival in her real home, enchanted by the word and the oddly wrought verses and how it applied to her.

"Yes, newly." Her father remembered, too. "I didn't want my daughter to be part of that trial—the fact that it was between a nobleman and a peasant, just made it worse—but I cannot protect her from the realities of our world forever. Before she has to own the burden of a decision by herself… I never expected it to reach that level of impunity that man fancied himself having that he could just march in my court and openly disregard—"

"I understand," Eugene said when the king didn't continue. And he did understand. It didn't mean he was any less angry. The trial had been a circus, but the king, the government, for all their power, was still bound by laws. It was too much for Rapunzel and she had gone.

To where?

That was the problem. Nobody knew, not even Eugene.

"I'm worried for her safety," the king confessed. "But I don't believe any harm came to her. It's much too soon for her to have gotten very far so quickly."

Even though it was the truth, Flynn couldn't help but resent that astute observation.

"If she needs to hide for a while, she should, but we'd all feel much better knowing where she is."

Amen to that.

"The mob should be broken up at once, before they violate borders and create havoc with our allies, but I'm selfish enough to want the extra hands for searching."

Now, Flynn Rider approved of that plan. With the great numbers simply sweeping through the surrounding areas, he knew he needed to be more intelligent about _his_ search. . . He hated to bring it up, but his dad-to-be needed to get to his point fast.

"I can't blame her if she wants to dig herself a hole and hideout there for a few days," the king continued absently. "I won't mind doing that myself some days."

Eugene felt like a ton of bricks had fallen on his head.

"What is it, Mr. Fitzerbert?" The king was looking at him, brows furrowed, but he was already running out of there.

"Don't call off the search, but I think I know where she might be," he hollered back.

There was a little room in one of the palace's upper floors. It was where the winter wardrobe of the princess was stored the rest of the year it wasn't winter. Rapunzel had explored it during her first winter with more interest than the place warranted. While it was kept free of draft and dust, Flynn didn't like the moth-ball smell and even if those fur coats would have been profitable if sold faraway enough, he wasn't in that business anymore to care.

He quickly passed through chest after chest of clothing piled atop each other and went to the last one, at the darkest corner of the room. His footsteps slowed as he approached. The down quilt and pillowcases strewn around it was testament that someone had needed to create more space in the huge trunk. It was slightly open.

Eugene sat down beside it and set his chin atop it, letting the added weight announce his presence. It was a while before she spoke. Though he wanted to, he felt that she shouldn't. It was relieving enough that she didn't tell him to go away.

"It was so obvious he was lying."

"It was to me, too," he answered quietly.

"I understand why after thinking about it long and hard, but I still can't—uggh!"

"I sort of understand."

He left it at that. The trial involved a feuding lord and his retainer. The latter was being accused of conspiring against the other man in a foiled kidnapping attempt, and the argument boiled over to the point where the retainer grappled with the lord and had killed his own wife by accident. From hearsay (Flynn believed in the adage that if there was smoke, there was fire somewhere) and the way the lord behaved at court, it seemed the retainer had done what he did out of desperation, that it was merely the last straw to a long, lingering problem. But there was insufficient evidence to try the lord for his excesses and abuse, and as it was, the law could only be black and white in the case of the retainer. The man had lost not only his wife then, but would lose his life come dawn tomorrow, for conspiracy, kidnapping, attempted murder, and manslaughter. The lord, who had driven this man to this madness, was walking away untouched because no such fancy terms existed to quantify all that he had done, with his retainer's estate returned to him and the young daughter now his ward!

"I was thinking about how badly I wanted to throw that lord to jail and let him rot there," she whispered, deeply frightened. "Even if there isn't enough of law to hold him, I can find ways to cheat it as he has, because I have the means. I have the power to make those horrible sorts of things happen, don't I, Eugene?"

"From experience," he answered, painfully and honestly. "No matter how much of it you stock to being born to bad circumstances, there's always a choice involved."

"But you'll be there, right?" she asked urgently. "You'll tell me when I'm making a wrong one even if I don't listen to you at first?"

"Rapunzel," he said with a sigh. "I won't always know myself. Truth be told, you have a better shot at getting it right than I do."

"Me?" She was profoundly skeptical. "I doubt it."

"Okay, that's pushing it too far, right now, but eventually, see? You're learning from your father and mother how to be a good ruler. You're learning from your people."

"I'm learning from you."

He finally settled on a simple thank you and they descended to a comfortable silence.

"I'll be fine in a few minutes," she assured him. "Though I wonder how you found me."

That was all it was. She wasn't surprised but dully curious.

"I remember you said you can get lost up here." He paused. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Yes and no. I need more time to think in a place where I don't feel like everything is crushing down on me."

"You picked an odd place for that, Blondie."

"Eugene."

"There's a word for what you're dealing with, _anomie_ or something like that. Your sociology tutor is the pompous sort. And yes, well, I do need to tell everyone I've found you safe and sound. I hear your subjects are ready to drink blood out there."

Rapunzel groaned.

"Take your time, Goldie," he said firmly. "I'll take care of this."

"Eugene."

"Yes?"

"Come back to make sure I come out?"

"Always."

end. 00:05 01162011

written for LJ comm 31_days for the theme Jan 15 / I believe in walls. That we need them.


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